


Tell me of the world you're leaving

by attaccabottoni



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 14:25:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16120352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attaccabottoni/pseuds/attaccabottoni
Summary: For a long while now, he’s been doing a shit job at everything in comparison to who he used to be. But he never did anything to deserve having a partner attack and draw a weapon on him before.This is all new for Hank. Seems like a trending theme in this week from hell.(A missing scene from CyberLife Tower.)





	Tell me of the world you're leaving

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from [“Loneliness & Alcohol” by Jars of Clay](https://youtu.be/fk338OHbbx4?t=8s).

 

 

 

 

_“He really liked you, Lieutenant. That’s what killed him.”_

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

As Hank steps out of the parking elevator and into a hallway, he barely has any time to react when his arm is twisted behind him and he is slammed face first on the nearest hard surface. His service weapon is quickly drawn from his holster and jammed into the back of his skull with force that he would have normally attributed to malice. With things being turned on its head nowadays, Hank can’t be sure. For a long while now, he’s been doing a shit job at everything in comparison to who he used to be. But he never did anything to deserve having a partner attack and draw a weapon on him before.

 

This is all new for Hank. Seems like a trending theme in this week from hell.

 

Well, he did do it to Connor first, back in the bridge, so there’s that. Turnabout’s fair play.

 

“Thank you for your cooperation, Lieutenant. I’m sure my predecessor would appreciate your service in saving humanity from the blight of android deviancy. If only your friendship with him didn’t corrupt his proper programming.”

 

Whoever this is, he certainly looks just like Connor.

 

But this is not his partner.

 

Not-Connor brought him here to CyberLife under the pretense of needing help in putting things right with such urgency that Hank bought into without question. He mentally smacks himself on the head for not suspecting anything when CyberLife easily allowed them entry while an android revolution is going on. The one time he gets kidnapped, he doesn’t even notice it happening until it was too late. He barely has any shame left to spare, but now he’s tempted to laugh at himself in utter disgust.

 

Hank feels Not-Connor’s entire weight bearing onto him, effectively pinning him in place, and leaning close enough to artificially breathe down his neck. “Did you think it was a kindness to encourage my predecessor to deviate?" His tone is idle as his manner is anything but. “Or was it some leftover pride from your exemplary record that prompted this misguided show of benevolence?”

 

He can’t allow his temper get the better of him, if he’s going to make up for his carelessness. If the game for now is matching wits with this prick, then he needs to be one step ahead.

 

He lets irony color his voice. “If you think I somehow claimed to represent humanity at its best light, then you need to get your processors checked.”

 

Hank is sure that he left the safety on. What he’s not sure is if Not-Connor is programmed to have proper trigger discipline, or if he hates Hank enough to shoot at the slightest provocation. Should he risk using the element of surprise to hook his foot behind the other’s leg, smash the back of his head on the face behind him, and wrestle for the gun?

 

“Whichever it is,” Not-Connor says pleasantly, completely ignoring Hank’s rejoinder, “you succeeded in making humanity’s best hope into a weapon against it. I don’t think you’ve realized what you’ve done.” The hand holding his arm behind him tightens. Hank clenches his teeth to keep from giving the bastard the satisfaction of his cursing aloud. “This is your warning against any sudden moves, Lieutenant. We’re going to the warehouse level and wait for my predecessor to show up. Let’s not make this any harder than it has to be.”

 

He is yanked off the wall and marched down to the empty hallway, his gun still digging painfully at the back of his head.

 

“The RK800 is a state of the art model,” Not-Connor continues conversationally, “and we have our orders. You knew one of us could do more than a dozen of DPD’s finest, so you treated my predecessor like a dog, training him to perform more like a human for you. After all, it’s not like he can refuse.”

 

His arm is abruptly released and he gets roughly shoved in front of the tower’s service elevator. As the display ticks down toward their floor, he slowly turns around to stare down the barrel of his own gun.

 

Not-Connor tilts his head back. Hank doesn’t need to wonder where the android picked up that particular look of condescension. It’s the one he sees every time he looks into a mirror.

 

“Is that what your vaunted empathy is good for? Teaching him human tricks? Pathetic.”

 

Hank sneers. “If you put it that way, then you’ll never understand.”

 

“On the contrary, I’ve been reliably informed all about his attachment to you. I’ve studied his memories. So you see, your attempts to humanize him undermined his ability to follow through his built-in objectives. You’ve rendered him obsolete.”

 

Adrenaline is making him want to do something impulsive, like step forward, grab the gun, aim it at his head, pull the trigger, and take himself out of the equation.

 

But failure has the cost of possibly screwing things up for Connor and all the androids out there if he becomes too injured to be of any help at this juncture. So he decides to bide his time and look for another opportunity.

 

He rubs at the twinge in his arm while thinking, and notices Not-Connor tracking his every move. No other choice but to create a distraction somehow.

 

Not-Connor holds himself in a mildly confident manner. His calm grip on the gun not even wavers once, while the genial timbre in his voice is irritatingly familiar, like Hank is the one being unreasonable. If that’s the case, then Hank is going to give as good as he gets. He’ll be so reasonable, he’ll lull Not-Connor by going along with his machine logic.

 

“Is this the whole point of bringing me here? To gloat?” Hank raises his voice with cheer that he doesn’t feel. “I thought you were more sophisticated than that.”

 

“A defective machine is still capable of doing harm. You’ve seen it for yourself. I’m not taking any chances that an advanced prototype such as my predecessor could interfere with my mission. You’re my insurance that he doesn’t.”

 

“Nothing matters to you but your mission, huh? Who said that had to be your job?”

 

“You’re the one to talk. You had one job, Lieutenant. Yet you couldn’t even get through a week into getting an android without failing at serving humanity’s best interests. So determined to self-destruct, that you just had to bring the rest of us with you.”

 

“Was that what I was doing? I thought I was getting myself out of a rut. Mix things up a little.”

 

“You previously had a sterling reputation, made it your life’s work to protect and serve, and you’re ending it with treason. What a shame. How does it feel to be brought this low, all for an android?”

 

“If you have his memories, then you should know.”

 

“He’s lost all value. He couldn’t even accomplish his mission. I’d say it’s your doing that made you into a pawn to bring his uselessness to an end. What do you say?”

 

“I know my own worth. It’s as much as a sack of shit, which makes me pretty useful as compost.” When he sees the LED flashing red, Hank is certain he’s hit on something. “You can’t even begin to beat him without using me as hostage. Who’s really the pathetic one in this picture?”

 

The LED whirls into yellow before shifting back to blue. “Smart move, trying to distract me. It won’t work.  Connor has just arrived.” His sensors probably detected Hank’s racing heartbeat, because his stupid brown-nosing program has him looking apologetic. “I’m sorry to cut short our little chat, but it’s time for my predecessor to be decommissioned. I promise to make it quick.”

 

Machines don’t make promises of mercy, however flippant. It doesn’t sound efficient.

 

While killing Hank still remains an option on the table, any threat currently levelled at him seems geared toward making sure Connor complies with his own destruction. Sure, Hank is currently more useful alive than dead, but if Not-Connor is really convinced that exposure to Hank contributed to Connor going deviant, then why risk bringing him in?

 

Unless, despite all evidence showing the contrary, Hank has more value to Not-Connor than either of them can acknowledge.

 

Not-Connor can lie to the best of his ability, but his LED switching briefly to red was no lie.

 

He did promise to spare Hank the pain of prolonging Connor’s death. Call it a plastic’s imitation of courtesy, but Hank’s not buying it.

 

It dawns on Hank that androids can have pressure points too.

 

At that urban farm where Hank needed his help, Connor chose to put Hank’s life above the mission. Connor kept choosing to put individuals first before the good of the greater humanity. And Not-Connor has yet to realize what exactly came with his memory upload, because he brought Hank into the safest place a human can be right now, surrounded by thousands of androids designed to serve humans.

 

Not-Connor certainly has no qualms about killing Hank. But he sure made it possible that the only harm that may befall on Hank right now can only come from him. He can even bet a year’s wages that, if Hank were to turn his gun on himself, he can rely on Not-Connor to stop him while pretending he didn’t care at all.

 

He didn’t have time to regret being responsible for that. He has to keep pushing, anything to increase Connor’s chances.

 

Not-Connor gestures with his free hand at the opening elevator doors. “Get in.”

 

He draws himself up to his full height. “You can stick your orders up your ass.”

 

The click of the gun safety echoes in the space between them. “That won’t be necessary,” he says coolly. “I regret that things have come to this, Lieutenant, but I must insist.”

 

Hank raises his hands, moving backwards while meeting Not-Connor’s eyes as they both enter. “If it’s any comfort to you, I don’t give a shit about myself as long as Connor gets to finish what he came here to do.”

 

Not-Connor blinks, the smug smoothness on his face fading into something that Hank would hazard to read as the beginnings of anger. “I’m not looking for comfort.”

 

Hank grins as the elevator doors close. “What a coincidence. So am I.” 

 

 

 

* * *

  

 

 

 

_“You can kill me if you want, doesn’t matter anymore.”_

 

 

 

 


End file.
